"Only a sense / Remains of them, like the omnipotence / Of music, when the inspired voice and lute / Languish, ere yet the responses are mute, / Which through the deep and labyrinthine soul, / Like echoes through long caverns, wind and roll."

"The thirst of living praise, / Fit reverence for the glorious Dead, the sight / Of those long vistas, sacred catacombs, / Where mighty minds lie visibly entombed, / Have often stirred the heart of youth, and bred / A fervent love of rigorous discipline."